


The Maiden and the Selkie

by Dresupi



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bronn Being Bronn (ASoIaF), F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Game of Thrones Fix-It, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, Minor Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Not Canon Compliant, POV Sansa Stark, Post-Episode: s08e03 The Long Night, Sansa Stark-centric, Selkie Theon Greyjoy, Selkies, Theon Greyjoy Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:47:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27897787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dresupi/pseuds/Dresupi
Summary: No matter how many times she told him he wouldn’t die, he still begged her to promise as many times at least.“Just say it, Sansa…”“Theon Greyjoy. If you die, I will take you back to the sea.”“If you take me to the sea, I’ll come back to you.”
Relationships: Theon Greyjoy/Sansa Stark
Kudos: 58
Collections: Dresupi's Theonsa Fics





	The Maiden and the Selkie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Unreal_Kitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unreal_Kitty/gifts).



> Okay so this one is a labor of love and honestly, anything would have been better than what we got from D&D, so why not Selkie!Theon, amiright?
> 
> Also, don't know who gets to be ruler of Westeros. Throne gets melted. Idk dude, fill in the blank, just not Bran lololol.
> 
> No comments because posting canon era work frightens me to my very core and in my core, I'm as soft as a wee ball of mozzarella, so yeah. I know what I'm about. xo
> 
> _****_ ****
> 
> **_Song Prompts 2020_ **
> 
> **__**
> 
> The Maiden and the Selkie - Heather Dale

No matter how many times she told him he wouldn’t die, he still begged her to promise as many times at least.

_“Just say it, Sansa…”_

_“Theon, you won’t die. You won’t. You can’t. You have to come back to me.”_

_He shook his head and reached for her hand. “Say it, Sansa.”_

_“Theon Greyjoy. If you die, I will take you back to the sea.”_

_“You won’t let them burn my body.”_

_“I won’t.”_

_“If you take me to the sea, I’ll come back to you.”_

* * *

Sansa’s breath caught in her throat as she looked down at his body. He was stiff, his jaw tied with a bit of cloth to keep his mouth closed. Her travel companions likely thought her mad, taking a trip like this one, at a time such as now, all to take a dead body to the sea.

Theon was dead. Stiff. Would likely be smelling something awful if it weren’t so fucking cold. It defied reason, why she was here.

And she’d pitched a bloody tantrum in order to get here. She’d yelled at Jon, she’d grasped his hands and pleaded with him. Told him that if he wouldn’t let her take anyone with her, she’d carry his body herself on the back of her horse. All alone.

Well, Brienne would be there, but that went without saying. Brienne had pledged herself to her side when she’d first come forward with the request. Whether Brienne thought her mad or not wasn’t apparent. She was standing beside her, and that’s all that mattered to Sansa. And with her, Podrick as well.

Jon had sighed, looking very much like her father at that moment. So much like him, it hurt to look, but look she did. She didn’t waver in her resolve, and perhaps that’s what finally convinced him.

At the end of it, his eyes shone with tears of either pity or disgust, she didn’t really care which, because he allowed her to leave. With a small retinue, horses, and a cart. 

Ser Jaime came along, likely because of Brienne. And Jon looked glad to be rid of him anyway. 

Bronn was also riding with them, sent by Tyrion to keep Lady Sansa and Jaime safe, even though Sansa was certain that Brienne would be adequate protection for where they were going.

And the final member of their group was Tormund Giantsbane. He was the leader of the free folk, but he was also madly in love with Brienne. Ghost trotted along beside the horses, keeping a watch on Theon’s body as they rode.

“Not to worry, my lady,” Brienne said softly from her right, almost as if she could read her thoughts. “They’re happy not to be marching south with the rest of the army. They all want to be here.”

“Speak for yourself, woman…” Bronn grumbled under his breath. “I’d very much like to be with my wife right now, not marching bloody north through a fucking forest.”

“No one asked you to join us,” Sansa said tightly.

“Too right they didn’t,” Jaime chimed in.

“Your brother did,” Bronn replied. “Your Lord husband,” he nodded towards Sansa. “Wanted me to keep you both safe.

Sansa sighed heavily. “He’s no more my husband than you are, ser.”

“You married the little one?” Tormund asked. “You? I guess he must like tall women too. Can’t say I blame him.” He shot a loving glance over at Brienne who simply ignored him.

“Every woman’s a tall woman to him,” Bronn muttered.

“Must be like heaven,” laughed Tormund.

“Keep quiet if you’re going to do anything at all,” Jaime interrupted them. “I’ll thank you not to disparage the queen of Winterfell in my presence.” His steely gaze spoke much more than his words, however. _And I’ll slice the balls off of the next person to say ‘tall woman’ in my presence._

Sansa nodded gratefully in direction before glancing down once more at Theon’s body. “How much longer?” she asked.

“We’ll reach the shore by sundown,” Podrick replied quickly, seemingly happy to change the topic. “We made excellent time.”

An excellent time was over a fortnight of travel, but Sansa couldn’t rightfully complain. Everyone had been as pleasant as they were individually capable of being. Sansa still would have preferred if it was just herself, Brienne, and Pod. 

“I know, but I worry that he’s…” Her eyes raked over Theon’s body. Pale as death and rattling on the cart.

Brienne looked down at him. “It’s what he wanted, yes? To be taken back to the sea?”

“Aye.”

“Then he’d be pleased with you, my lady.”

“I hope so,” she replied, swallowing back the lump in her throat. Having not yet cried, she supposed she would once she saw him slipping beneath the waves, lost to her forever.

Brienne was right. They reached the shore by sunset, but the men were too tired to take the boat out that evening. They’d go as the sun rose, they promised.

* * *

“If you don’t weigh down the body, he’ll float back up to the surface,” Bronn argued with her. 

She shook her head. “You’ll not weigh him down, ser.”

“My lady loon,” Bronn began, only to have Brienne’s sword thrust in his face. “I’m not sorry, I said what you’re all thinking!”

“He’s coming back to me,” Sansa said softly, reaching down to run her hand over his curls. “He said he would. He can’t come back to me if he’s weighed down to the bottom of the sea.”

Everyone was silent then.

“He will be coming back to you alright if you don’t weigh him down,” Bronn said. “He’ll come back up with the tide and you’ll get to see where all the fish took bites of him.”

“Be silent,” Brienne barked.

“You’re all just fine to let her do this, then?” Bronn asked, and sat back in the boat. “Fine. I wash my hands of it, though. And I’m not coming back out to return him to the sea once he comes back to his lady with the tide this evening.”

“No one’s asking you to,” Jaime muttered. 

Sansa’s lip quivered as Tormund and Jaime hoisted Theon’s body up onto the edge of the boat. “Goodbye, Theon,” she whispered, reaching up to remove the Stark sigil from her hair and tuck it into his armor. She nodded to them and they dropped him over.

The tears still didn’t come as she watched his limp body disappear into the dark water. The Drowned God had him now.

They returned to their camp on the beach, and Bronn made his very noisy exit, being certain to make every passive-aggressive comment he could muster before both Jaime and Brienne reached for their weapons. He strode off, leading his horse and grumbling under his breath.

Sansa was glad to be rid of him. While it had been kind of Tyrion to worry about her, she didn’t believe that sending his cutthroat assassin along with them was merited, even if he had claimed it was for Jaime’s benefit as well. Jaime was with Brienne, and he was the Kingslayer. If anyone could look after himself, it’d be him. Besides, Bronn would likely report back to Tyrion that she had gone insane, and that it would be best not to proposition the Dragon Queen to renew their vows.

Which was just as well. Sansa had no desire to renew those vows. The only man she could ever think of marrying had just been cast into the sea. If anything, she felt she’d rather grow old alone than be wed to anyone who wasn’t Theon Greyjoy.

_Theon._

It hurt to even think of his name. To remember the way his mouth had looked when he’d shaped the last words he’d spoken to her.

Sansa took up her vigil on the shore, watching as the dark blue waters churned and tumbled. He told her he’d come back to her if she took him to the sea. Was she really mad for thinking he was telling the truth?

* * *

_Three days later…_

“My lady…” Brienne said softly as she approached from behind. “Podrick and I are going to go for a short hunt in those woods we came through on our way in….”

“Alright,’ she said hollowly.

“We’ll be back in a few hours, I hope.”

“Alright,” Sansa repeated.

“Ser Jaime will be here with you, so you won’t be alone.”

She nodded once. “Very well.” She didn’t ask after Tormund. She assumed he’d be following after Brienne like an enormous puppy, but the knight could use the extra workforce to bring back meat if they managed to fell something.

She heard Brienne start to leave and she turned. “Brienne?”

“Yes, my lady?” she asked, her hand on her sword. 

“Good luck.”

She smiled, a small gesture, but it was warm. And Sansa was so cold. So cold and very alone. “Thank you, my lady. And to you as well.” She gestured out to the ocean.

Sansa laughed without humour as she looked into the water. “Do you ever look at something for so long, it ceases to be?”

“Aye, I have. On occasion,” Brienne replied.

“I believe that is where I am currently residing. Somewhere between foolish and downright stupid.”

“You are neither of those things.”

“I am, though,” she replied. “I dragged all of you out here. When there’s a war to be fought. All to take part in a fool’s errand because I couldn’t admit that I cannot stand the thought of losing him too. Not him. Not on top of everything else. I’m weak.”

“No, Lady Stark. You are not. You are forged in ice. But you are human. You are a queen.”

“That dragon queen wouldn’t be caught dead doing this.”

“That dragon queen is madder than a crone what’s been hit on the head,” Brienne scoffed. “I look at her and I see glass. Forged and shaped in a fire, but so fragile that the smallest breeze may knock it over and shatter it. She’s lucky there’s been no breeze. That dragon queen.”

Sansa laughed again. This time, a small huff, but it contained a real smile. “Have a good hunt, Ser Brienne.”

“Thank you, my lady.”

She sighed and stared out into the water again, concentrating on the foam that swirled around the rocks’ edge.

She didn’t know how long she stared into the swirling eddy, but soon a soft voice spoke her name.

Sansa turned, surprised to see Ser Jaime standing there. Back farther than was necessary.

“Ser Jaime,” she replied.

“Lady Stark,” he said, bowing his head in deference. She waited and he spoke again presently. “I hope your…” he paused as if searching for the correct term. “... _fellow_ comes back.”

She smiled, supposing she should be grateful to him for not referring to Theon as a eunuch. “Am I a fool for believing he yet will?” she asked, hugging her knees. Jaime took a seat on the rock with her. A few feet away from her, but still there. Still a presence.

“No, I don’t think so. I’ve seen stranger things happen,” he replied.

“I suppose,” she said with a shrug.

“Ser Brienne is worried about you.”

“I’m worried about me too,” she said softly. “I can’t imagine going back to Winterfell.”

“It’s your home,” Jaime stated.

“But it’s empty,” she said softly. “It’s empty and I thought I’d have Theon there with me, and it wouldn’t be so bad, but…” 

For the first time, her eyes welled up. Her shoulders shook as she sobbed.

At once, she felt an arm around her shoulder.

She turned and lay her head upon him, sobs wracking her body as she finally, _finally,_ grieved the loss of her friend.

Of her love.

Theon.

* * *

Brienne and the others had returned somewhat triumphant. They’d felled an elk and it soon was skinned and cooked upon the fire.

Sansa ate because if she didn’t, she feared they’d force feed her, and then she went back out onto the rocks again. As the sun set, she watched the sea turn black. And for some reason, that made her angry.

Scooping up a handful of rocks, she began chucking them into the water, grunting with the effort and not feeling a release from the process as she’d hoped she would. Angry tears poured down her cheeks as she threw rock after rock into the water, and she knew she likely looked foolish. Or mad. Out here, cursing under her breath and throwing rocks into an unfeeling sea.

A glint of something caught her eye, shimmering in the moonlight and stuck in a tidal pool nearby. She slid down from the rock to fetch it, only to come back with the Stark sigil she’d pinned to Theon’s armour before they’d cast him into the water.

A mournful sound bubbled up from her belly and she hurled it out as far as she could, wishing almost immediately that she hadn’t done because it was the only thing that she had of Theon’s.

And it wasn’t even his.

He’d never given her anything of his. No favour or the like. Towards the end, such things hadn’t mattered, but Sansa clenched her fists and sat down hard upon the rock, sobs heaving angrily out of her as if her emotions were boiling over. He’d never given her a thing. Why was she sitting here, expecting anything more from a dead man?

A dead man.

He was dead. He’d left her as everyone else had and here she was, doomed to roam Westeros alone. Forever. Until she could finally sleep as well.

She curled up on the rock, her back to the ocean. As if that were a sufficient enough action to quell her anger. As if it would matter.

The last she remembered was staring at the darkened beach. At the far off orange glow of the fire.

* * *

“Sansa…” his voice was like a balm on a burn. “Sansa, wake up. You’ve fallen asleep on a rock and the tide is going to take you, sweet girl. Wake up.”

Her eyes fluttered open. It was impossibly dark and when she sat up, her back ached. The spray from the ocean was cold on her skin, but not uncomfortably so.

She yawned and turned to look out into the surf and nearly fell off the rock.

Someone was there. Close by. So close.

It was dark, but she could tell it wasn’t Brienne or Jaime. Or Podrick.

Definitely not Tormund.

She was too scared to make a sound, but she did attempt to scramble backward, only fall backward and be caught by the being seated in front of her.

“Sansa!” he exclaimed. 

She blinked and peered into the face in front of her, recognizing the voice at once. “Theon?” He smiled and she scrambled off the rock, to stumble in the wet sand. “Theon?” she repeated.

“Sansa,” he breathed, moving toward her and she wanted to stay put, but he shouldn’t be here. She’d seen his dead body. She’d seen it. And now— 

Oh she had truly gone insane, hadn’t she?

“Oh, I’ve gone mad as Daenerys,” she mumbled under her breath.

“Surely not,” Theon chuckled. “It hasn’t been that long, has it?”

“What?” she asked.

“How long since you’ve seen me?”

She swallowed thickly. “Four days. Thereabouts.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “That’s what I counted as well. Four days since I woke up in the water.”

“But you’re dead.”

“No, I’m not,” he countered. “I’m right here. You did as I asked and brought me to the sea. Thank you so much for that, Sansa…”

“Wha—“

“The Drowned God gave me a second life,” he said, smiling in that crooked way that she loved.

And it was at that moment that it hit her. He was here. Alive. Warm. In front of her.

She moved closer, closing the distance between them as he embraced her.

Something fell to the ground in front of him and he swore under his breath.

“What—“

“Don’t… I’m not decent,” he said.

She must have looked confused because Theon dropped to his knees and grabbed whatever he’d been holding, pressing it back against his front and she realized that he was nude. Completely nude.

“What happened to your—“

“In order to transform me, The Drowned God had to destroy them… but I do thank you for sending them with me.”

“I found the—“

“Oh! The sigil!” he reached into whatever it was he was holding and withdrew it. I tried to send it up to you yesterday, but I suppose it didn’t make it?”

“That was you?” she asked. “I thought it was fate being cruel and taunting me…” She looked down and he tucked it into her hair, which was a bloody mess, now that she was thinking about it. “And you’ve been transformed?” she asked again.

“Let’s go sit by the fire. Perhaps I can borrow something to wear from one of your companions.”

“Yes, yes… let’s…” she reached for his hand and he chuckled, giving it over and she laced their fingers before realizing what was different.

“Wait…” she looked down at his hand. All his fingers were there. Nothing scarred either. “Wait… he _transformed_ you?”

“He fixed… well… everything,” he said with a soft chuckle.

“I never thought you were broken,’ she said softly.

“I know… that’s why I—“ He trailed off again and gestured to the fire once more.

They reached it and she started stoking it up again before approaching Podrick’s tent and calling softly inside. “Podrick?”

“My lady?” he sounded tired, but he still managed to poke his head out.

“Is there any way you could lend some spare clothing to Theon?”

He frowned and then peered around her, spying the man by the fire. His eyes went wide and he rubbed them before poking his head further out.

“Uh yes. Yes. Send him in.”

Sansa was loath to let him out of her sights, but she stood back to allow Theon to enter Podrick’s tent, being careful to keep himself covered with the strange thing he had covering him.

She sat by the fire and warmed her hands, waiting for him to return.

When he did return, he thanked Podrick and promised he’d leave him alone now. 

“Brienne wouldn’t want Lady Sansa to be alone without a chaperone.”

“It’s fine, Podrick,” Sansa said.

He hadn’t looked as if he believed her in the slightest, but he also looked as if she could knock him over with the barest of pushes, so he ducked back into the tent and she heard him flop onto his sleeping mat.

After he’d left them, Theon sat down as close as he possibly could, the thing he’d had wrapped around him was in his lap.

“I have to explain a lot of things to you, Sansa,” he replied. “But I feel you likely have questions, so—“

“What is that?” she asked immediately, reaching out to touch the thing in his lap. It was smooth. Silky almost. Like a pelt. But slicker.

“It’s… my coat,” he said softly. “My skin.”

She frowned and looked up at him. “Your skin?”

“Aye. I told you the Drowned God brought me back. There were stipulations. I’m not human any longer, Sansa.

She frowned and looked at him. “You look human, provided, I haven’t seen all of you, but I don’t believe you could be—“

“Have you heard of selkies, Sansa?”

She frowned. “The Septa spoke of them… not in any sort of depth, but I remember hearing of them when we learned of the other nation’s religions… She assured us they weren’t real, though.”

“They’re real,” Theon said softly, reaching for her hand.

“She said they lived in the sea, but they could remove their skins and—“ She stopped immediately and turned to look into his eyes. “This is your skin?”

He smiled and nodded. “My skin.”

“So you’re a…”

“Yes.”

She exhaled slightly. “But you’re alive.”

“Aye,” he said, smiling. “I’m alive.”

“And you came back—“ she stopped shy of saying ‘to me’, but while it was unspoken, he still nodded.

“I came back to you. For you.”

“But you can’t live away from the sea, can you?” she murmured, her shoulders falling.

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t last long away from the sea, no.”

“So I’ll have to live here.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” he assured her. He reached out and clasped her hand with his. She looked down, taking it in both of hers. He squeezed tightly. He felt strong. Not that he wasn’t strong the last time she’d seen him, but he’d seemed more frail somehow. Breakable. Making it almost no surprise when they’d brought her his body.

This time, though… She could feel how solid and steady he was.

“Your hands, they…”

He chuckled softly, using the other to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I don’t feel so wrong touching you now…”

“You should never have felt wrong in doing it before,” she assured him.

“I know, but you deserved more than—“

“I deserved… _deserve_ a man who loves me,” she said softly.

“Then you have that. A hundred times over, my lady.”

She smiled and pulled his hand up to her lips, pressing a soft kiss against the back of it.

“I believe I’m supposed to be the one doing that,” he teased. And she scooted closer to him, wondering if someone was going to stop them again. If someone was going to interrupt them now.

It felt they’d not had any time to themselves ever, so it seemed likely that Brienne would burst from her tent and tackle Theon to the ground, only to have to explain to her and everyone else what he was.

And yet, when his lips touched hers and she heard nothing but the rush of blood in her ears as she arched towards him, tasting the salt of the sea on his lips and his tongue when she opened her mouth to grant him entrance.

He made a soft moaning sound when she did, and he brought one of those strong hands up to stroke her face, along her jaw before cupping it and kissing her softly.

When she pulled away, she had tears in her eyes and he chuckled softly, wiping them away. “Don’t cry.”

“Can’t help myself,” she whispered, kissing him again before continuing. “No one has ever kissed me like that…”

“I’ll have to do it more, then…”

“Wait…” she cut him off, as much as it pained her not to keep kissing him here until someone woke up and they had to break apart. 

“Hmm?” he asked.

“You can’t live away from the sea, so can you…live out of it?”

“For my health, I shouldn’t be away for longer than a day’s time. I can come to you when the sun crests, and leave when the moon begins to wane… I wish I could stay longer, but…”

“If I were to steal your skin?” she asked, mischief glittering in her eyes. “And keep you with me always.”

“I would stay, but I’m sure your Septa told you what happens to Selkies without their skin?”

“They’re never happy,” she whispered, leaning closer to kiss him. “I want you happy, Theon.”

“I want _you_ ,” he whispered, kissing her once more. “In whatever way I can have you.”

“I’ll live here,” she said softly.

“What about Winterfell?”

“Bran’s there. And Jon will be after the war.”

“You fought to get it back.”

“Because it’s what was right,” she said softly. “Now I want my own happiness.”

“I’ll build a house for you here,” he promised. “You won’t be the queen of the North, but you’ll be the queen of my heart.”

She smiled and ran her fingers through his hair. “A worthy title.”

“My lady?” Brienne was ducking out of her tent, blinking in the low light. “Is everything alright, my lady?” she asked, stopping abruptly when she saw two of them sitting by the fire, and not one, as she’d expected. Her hand went to her sword, but as she squinted, her hand fell away again.

She frowned and rubbed her eyes, unable to believe what she was seeing. “I… Theon Greyjoy?”

He smiled in reply, reaching for Sansa’s hand and squeezing. “Aye, it’s me.”

“You came back,” she stated.

“I promised I would. I couldn’t break a promise to Sansa.” He gazed over at her fondly.

“Are you… have you been... Necromanced?” she asked, her hand on her sword once more. “You don’t look like one of those… wights, but—“

“He’s not a wight, Brienne,” Sansa assured her. “It’s Theon. The Drowned God has brought him back.” She reached for the Stark sigil he’d put in her hair. The very same that she’d placed on him before sending him over the side of the boat. “See? It’s the sigil I gave him before. He gave it back.”

Brienne reached out to touch the sigil as if she were afraid it’d disintegrate right there in front of her eyes. She kept glancing back at Theon, waiting for him to disappear.

Sansa knew the feeling. She wasn’t entirely past feeling it herself.

She wasn’t certain that Theon wanted everyone to know about the specifics of why he was back. How he was no longer human. How he was… what he was, so she turned to look at him, to gaze deeply into his eyes and try to ascertain what his plans were.

It didn’t seem to matter since Brienne didn’t ask any further questions. She simply glanced over at Sansa, trying to read her face for clues.

“It’s fine, Brienne. Truly.” She reached for her hands and squeezed them. “He’s back and… and I’m going to remain here with him.”

Brienne frowned. “What? My lady, you are the Queen of the North.”

“Bran is now the rightful king of Winterfell,” Sansa said definitively. “I would never try to force Arya to take what she’s never wanted, and Jon… Jon was appointed Warden. I was only named in his absence… not to sound calloused, but I’ve nothing but terrible memories left of that place. I’d much rather start over afresh.”

“But here? My lady, surely…” Brienne looked around the desolate beach.

“We can build something here. Modest and small enough for me to be able to keep up…” Sansa sighed happily. “It’s what I want, Brienne. You must have seen how ill at ease I was with the thought of being the ruler of the north. I’d be expected to marry. For political reasons, no less. I simply can’t do that again.”

She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “If I remain here, I can…” she glanced back at Theon, who had been silent up until now.

“She can marry me,” he said softly. “If she wishes, that is…”

“Of course I do…” she turned and reached for his hands and changing her mind, instead, running one through his hair and one down his forearm.

“Who’s going to explain all of this to Lord Snow?”

They all peered around Brienne to where Jaime was currently standing. He didn’t have his boots on, but he was mostly dressed.

“I was hoping you lot would do that for me?” Sansa replied, grinning in a pleading sort of way. “Please?”

“I’m not sure how I’d be able to do that,” Brienne said. “Seeing as I’ll be here as well.”

Jaime stared at her for a few moments, and they seemed to have a conversation with their eyes alone. Well, Jaime did. And he sighed. “And I, it appears.”

“You’re staying?” Sansa squealed.

“It would seem that way,” Jaimie grumbled. “We can send word by raven.”

Tormund was still here, but she very much doubted he’d take kindly to traveling south once more to tell Jon she was marrying a dead man and living by the sea, so she resolved not to involve him.

“It will have to do,” she said definitively. “Because I won’t be leaving.”

Theon reached for her hand and leaned in to kiss her full on the lips. Her face flushed red when he did because they weren’t alone. Not by short. So she broke off the kiss before she’d have liked, only to clear her throat nervously and glance over at Brienne.

Brienne, who smiled fondly at Sansa and gestured to Jaime. “Come, let us take a walk.”

Jaime didn’t argue, and the two of them left, becoming footprints in the harsh sand as Theon placed his warm hand in hers, using the other to hook two fingers under her chin and kiss her softly on the lips. “And you? Would you have me explain more about--”

“No,” she said suddenly, standing and reaching out to him. “No, I’d have you come with me to my tent. If that--” She stopped short, realizing very quickly that she wasn’t completely equipped to handle such a situation.

“If that would please me?” Would it please you?” he asked, his voice low.

“Yes,” she said softly. “Yes, it would.”

“Then we can talk more later.”

She smiled and turned in the direction of her tent, leading him behind her and wondering if this was a dream.

Sansa hoped not. Or if it was, she hoped she’d never wake from it.

Theon stopped her as they approached the entrance to her tent. He kissed her softly, his hands cupping her jaw. “I can’t help but feel like this could be a dream…”

She felt the warmth from his skin, the huff of his breath against her face, the happy tears welling in her eyes, and made a decision.

“It’s not a dream. It’s the life we both had coming.”

And with that, she led him into her tent.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! <3


End file.
